Welcome back
by Nithela
Summary: Pride returns and someone is waiting for him. Post bluebird's illusion, Pride!Ed ending, but I never had the time to get to the very ending of the game so errors will occur. Character death, a bit of OOCness I'm afraid.


**Nithela speaks: **Okay, I never had the time to go through the fangame Bluebird's illusion since I had to give back the laptop to my school for summer break, so everything is far from right and I wish I could give much more detail, but you'll have to put up with it, ok?

Anyway, this is a "sequel" for the Pride!Ed ending.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except this drabble-thingy.

**Warnings:** Crappines, character death

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"I can't believe it. It has already been two months since it happened. Where did the hours go? 

I often wander around the rooms in the house. _Our _house. Mostly the kitchen. I think the milk carton is still standing on the counter. I'd better put it back; if you see it you'll pour it out in the sink.I also go through your bedroom. It's tidy and your pink pj's are lying on the cover. I've washed it, for once. You'll complain over it being itchy every time I do, even though it's silk.

The dining room looks like always when I'm waiting for you: Your plate is there. Clean and untouched. I'm leaving dinner in the fridge for you every night in case you come home.

I can't understand why your colleagues say you're gone. I know you'll come back, and I'll sit here and wait for you until you do. You just need some time to recover from whatever things Envy did to you, then you'll come back and we can live like normal people again. Right? Oh and by the way, Mustang called this morning. He asked me how I managed being alone at home. I told him that I never was, and I never will be, since you're not really gone. He never didn't seem to believe me though, but he'll see. He'll see when we go and visit him to tell him, _show_ him, that you've come back. Because you're not gone. I just know it."

Alphonse closed the notebook he had been writing in and leaned back in his chair by the desk, stretching and yawning. He cast a glance at the clock: _23,30._ He should get to bed. Not that he had to go to work; he got money from the state every week since Edward was counted as "deceased in service", and the insurance would cover all expenses for the rest of his life.No... on the other hand, why did he even need to go to bed? It was nicer at night, when it was more normal for it to be quiet in the house - unlike the days, when Ed was supposed to rant and rampage about his duties as a colonel, making a one-man stampede when he headed for his room to tear some paperwork apart.The teen smiled for himself at the thought of the fuming blonde using the uglier part of his vocabulary, and when he started repeating himself, he'd make up some new. Heck, he missed those rants...

He looked at the clock on the wall in front of him again.

_23,56._

...was that the front door opening?

He listened carefully for other implications of someone else being in the house, but he couldn't hear anything. A knot was appearing in his stomach; burglars?

_23,58._

Was he only imagining, or did someone walk slowly in their hallway? The rustling... it wasn't only in his imagination. Someone was there!

_23,59._

The footsteps stopped right outside his room and he knew he was being watched through the open door. He didn't even have to turn around to know.

"Welcome home, brother."

He rose from his chair and sparkling silver met dull gold. His smile faded slowly at the sight of the many tattoo's, and the crest on Ed's shoulder.

The homunculus resumed his slow stroll through the room, aiming for the teen without showing any sign of emotions whatsoever. Alphonse took a reluctant step backwards.

"Edward?"

No answer.

"It's me, Al. You wouldn't...? No.. you wouldn't... No..."

Ed stopped right in front of him, unfocused eyes starting into his little brother's.

_"No..."_

The clock striked.

_00,00._

* * *

**Nithela speaks: **Alright, er, this was the original drabble-thingy. I felt the urge to do a small epilogue, so those who want can read it, but if you want to stop here and are afraid of me ruining it all with a continuation, please do so.

* * *

_**Epilogue**_

The brigadier general stepped out of the car and closed the door in a calm and collected manner. He was followed by Hawkeye, who, as always, carried a stack of paper in her hands. They began making their way through the heap of photographers and other militaries roping off the area around the house they faced. Mustang was the first to reach the hall, and a sergeant from another division was the first to notice him in the mass of blue uniforms and met him.

"In the smaller bedroom." He said in a business-like tone, and the raven-haired man's eyes narrowed slightly.

"It's true then. Are they both...?"

The soldier gave him a small, firm nod and led the way to the scene of the crime. Mustang and Hawkeye followed suit, steeling themselves to the scene they were going to witness.  
The man came in just in time to see Al's body being draped over with a white cloth. He had expected to see blood, signs of struggle, maybe red patterns on the walls, but there was none. It almost looked like the soldier holding the cloth was tucking Alphonse in, that the teen had fallen asleep on the floor after pulling an all-nighter.

Then he saw it.

In one end, his sock-clad feet were lying with the toes leaning against the carpet and the heels pointing towards the ceiling... and Mustang was sure he could see the teen's face form the cloth in the other. With a small wave of nausea, he realised that his neck had been wringed.

"Who could have...?" Riza whispered; her eyes were widened and she was grasping the papers firmly.

"You know just as well as I do." He answered darkly. "If it it wasn't _him_, there would be signs of fighting. He didn't resist."

He sighed and crouched beside the corpse, feeling strangely heavy inside.

"He would never fight Edward."

Despite the protests from his subordinates, he pulled the cloth away from Al's face. The teen's eyes were still half-open, unfocused and emptied of emotions. No one other than Hawkeye understood why he did it, but Roy put a hand on the dead boy's cold forehead and pushed his bangs from his face before laying the cloth back carefully. He rose, and his features softened somewhat.

"I should have listened to him. He was right all the time."

He turned and walked out of the room.

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**Nithela speaks (again):** That was it. Hm, I don't really like this, it was sooooo much better when I made it up in my mind, but my writing skills (how small they ever may be) won't function properly today. But meh, I'll post it anyway, just to let you know that I'm still alive XD


End file.
